Dancing with Herself

Chapters

Chapter 2, in which the strangeness is doubled by reflection from within.
Chapter 3, in which revelations lead to more chaos.
Chapter 4, in which chaos leads to more revelations.
Chapter 5, in which a promise is made.
Chapter 6, in which the last dance of the evening is had.
Chapter 1, in which a strange custom leads to a surprising transformation.

Chapter 2, in which the strangeness is doubled by reflection from within.

Starlight needed a minute to herself. Or maybe a year. Yes, a year would do.

She reared back and tried to get her bearings. Somehow, she had stumbled her way closer to the center of the ballroom. The crowd has definitely changed, but she didn’t have time or presence of mind to study it. Instead, her eyes fell upon her deliverance.

A sign stating “Bathrooms” in bold, friendly letters.

The unicorn waded through the crowd. The strand of silver hair bobbed in her vision, mocking her. Despite the crowd being a blur, she quickly came to a shocking realization.

They weren’t rushing for the exits, screaming in terror, or clambering for the seclusion of the bathroom like her. Instead, the mood seemed to settle into the same state it was before – a pleasant mix of idle chatter, soft laughs, and clinking of glasses.

Trixie sure was right about the nobles.

Only this time, there were many more Twilights, Lunas, Pinkies, Celestias, Rutherfords, Rainbow Dashes… and none of them seemed unnerved at all.

The door behind her slammed shut. The bathrooms looked empty enough. Only one stall was closed, but she couldn’t hear anyone inside. There was a strange hint of magic in the room; something old and powerful she knew, but could not really place.

Starlight quickly made her way into another stall, closed the door, sat on the toilet lid, and took a few deep breaths.

What truly confused her was the fact that she felt so strange about the transformation at all.

Wasn’t Trixie one of her best friends? They basically lived with each other and spent plenty of time together. It was natural that Trixie would jump into her mind while she scrambled to think about who to transform into.

And yet it felt strange, as though she was breaking some unspoken taboo. For some reason, it made her heart race and breath quicken.

Starlight took a few more deep breaths, pulling the flusher to hide the sound from any other occupant. As she rose, she heard a stall door creak, followed by a series of unsteady hoofsteps.

Maybe she wasn’t alone in her distress after all.

“Why did I have to turn into the mare I’m in love with?!” somepony lamented.

Her heart skipped a beat. The voice was familiar, despite being strangely high pitched. She had heard it on recordings plenty of times. It just felt wrong when it wasn’t accompanied by the resonance of her own skull.

Starlight opened the stall’s door and peeked outside.

In front of the mirror, staring into the sink, stood on her hind legs – herself.

To her credit, Starlight didn’t scream. She merely gasped loud enough to send her doppelganger jumping up to the ceiling. By the time she came back, the other Starlight was staring right at her.

“Trixie?” she asked confusedly.

That’s right! Starlight reminded herself. In the mirror in front of her, she saw the shocked face of the Great and Powerful unicorn. Right next to a pony who looked like Starlight normally did, who had just said they had turned into the pony they were in love with.

Oh, sweet mercy.

Starlight’s priorities changed very quickly. She was in covert investigation mode now.

“The one and only!” she declared, stepping out of the toilet stall. “The Great and Powerful Trixie!”

She even rolled the R. Maybe a bit too much.

“Am I hamming it up too much?” she asked.

“No… no…” the other Starlight replied. “You’re… uh… right on the money. Just…”

She frowned.

“Trixie doesn’t talk in first person that much,” she explained. “She’d probably say something like…”

The fake Starlight cleared her throat, batted her eyelashes, and rumbled: “Is Trrrrixie hamming it up enough?”

Starlight – the real one – snickered. Her copy did almost the same.

“Your…” Starlight searched for the right word. “Performance… is pretty good, too!”

She walked to the sink and turned the water on.

“I bet it is,” the other pony said. “Yours is slipping a bit, though.”

Starlight splashed her face and looked to the side.

“Tell me, then,” she began, mimicking Trixie’s tone again. “Did the Great and Powerful Trixie hear you say that you…” she lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “...you turned into the pony you are in love with?”

It was a strange thing to see herself blush.

“I have,” the fake admitted, quickly adding, “but that’s beside the point!”

“Oh, is it?” Starlight was starting to enjoy this. “Don't you think the Great and Powerful Trixie would want to know who is so-o desperately in love with her roommate?”

“Oh puh-lease!” The fake waved her hoof. “You know Trixie has her own room.”

“Ha!” Starlight pointed her hoof. “Somepony close to her, then. But who?”

She was really starting to enjoy being Trixie. There was just something liberating about inhabiting that flamboyant, boisterous persona of hers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the fake replied sarcastically.

“You really are good at this,” Starlight said with admiration. “That’s exactly what I—”

She stopped herself before finishing the sentence.

“...what Starlight would say, I mean,” she finished.

“Right…” the fake rolled her eyes. “And you’d know because…?”

Starlight panicked for a split second, looking right and left. Once again, her eyes fell upon the mirror.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie,” she explained nonchalantly, “knows many things!”

“Ah, that’s how we’re playing it then?” the fake asked. “Alright.”

“Trixie begs your pardon?”

Her doppelganger stood up properly and faced her.

“How about we honor Thorax’s wish,” she offered, “and play his little game?”

She laughed.

“You want to know who I really am,” she continued, “and I wouldn’t mind company for the evening. If you can actually guess who I am…”

She shrugged.

“Then you’re a better mare than I,” she finished. She reached out with her hoof. “Do we have a deal?”

Starlight looked down for a moment, then up at those twinkling eyes. The other mare thought she had Starlight on the ropes already. The doppelganger didn’t know it just made her conviction greater.

“Trixie accepts your challenge,” she decided and shook the other pony’s hoof. For a moment, it really did feel like shaking hooves with herself. “How do we go about this?” she asked.

“How about we mingle, Trixie?” the other pony smiled. “You ask me questions and I ask you some?”

Starlight nodded vigorously.

They were leaning against the bar, watching the crowd.

It was much more interesting now that Starlight wasn’t freaking out.

At a glance, it was the same mix of ponies, griffons, yaks, and so on. But here and there, an alicorn stood out from the crowd.

“There’s another Luna,” the fake observed, poking in the direction with her chin.

“Where? Oh, I see her!” Starlight frowned. It still amazed her how flexible Trixie’s face felt. “Didn’t we see that one already?”

The fake shook her head. “Nah. This one has blue eyes.”

“Well spotted, Starlight Glimmer!” the real Starlight said enthusiastically, squinting into the crowd. The other unicorn blushed and smiled nervously.

“Thanks, Trixie! I mean…” she chuckled and added: “Sorry, I’m messing the game up.”

Starlight rolled her eyes, but the moment her opposite glanced at her, she was already wearing a benevolent smile. “Nonsense,” she said in a tone she hoped was a reassuring one. “You are just… being yourself!”

And being just that, and nopony else, she thought with a hint of anger. How can I figure out who this pony is if they’re so good at being me?!

“Something on your mind, Trixie?” the fake asked.

“Oh, nothing much,” Starlight replied and sighed. “I… I mean, uh… Trixie is just getting a bit bored with playing spot-the-alicorn.”

“Is that it?” her double smirked at her mischievously. “Not frustrated, perhaps?”

“Is it that obvious?” Starlight groaned. “Look, I’m not very good at this…”

The fake nodded sagely. “I guess not,” she said. “Trixie was never good at spotting subtle facial cues. Not that I am.” The chuckle she ended with sounded so much like Starlight’s it made the original wince.

That was it, then. The other mare all but admitted she wasn’t Trixie. She had to be someone else who knew her well enough to mimic her mannerisms. Somecreature from school maybe? Plenty of the pupils were the children of nobility. Or one of her old acquaintances, perhaps?

Maybe… she thought, Twilight?

They sat in silence for a few moments. Starlight peered into the crowd, hoping to find the real Trixie. But of course, the magician was in disguise and probably trying to enjoy the evening.

She listened to the rhythmic sway of the waltz and watched the crowd move. It gave her an idea.

“Plan B,” Starlight decided and stood up.

“Oh?” her copy asked.

“Shall we dance?” Starlight clarified and offered her hoof.

The fake giggled.

“I’m game, Trixie.”

Starlight led her other self away from the stools. In a few moments, the song ended and another one began.

“Waltz.” She racked her brain. “Right…”

The other pony eyed her inquisitively.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You… uh… not good at dancing, Trix?”

“The Great and Powerful… Trixie…” Starlight gulped, “is good at everything! But why not allow Starlight to lead?”

The idea took a bit off of her chest as she continued: “After all, Starlight seems to enjoy taking charge in so many things!”

“Not dancing,” her partner protested. “But I’ll do my best. Just… don’t laugh. Or you’ll regret it later!”

“Is that a promise?” Starlight wiggled an eyebrow. Trixie did that sometimes. And it seemed to have a similar effect on her counterpart as it would on her – a crimson flush rose to her cheeks.

Without another word, the unicorn closed in on her and grasped her by the waist. They stood up, pressed against one another, balancing on two pairs of back hooves. Starlight felt her partner’s hoof move up to her withers and leaned into it carefully. When they were sure they were not going to topple over, they started slowly swaying in the rhythm.

“One two three – one two three –” Starlight heard quietly. In any other situation, she might have let slip a sarcastic comment but she had plenty of trouble keeping her balance.

It wasn’t as if she had no formal training in dance. Sadly, she’d missed out on the basics during her early life. Nevertheless, she’d jumped into lessons some time after Twilight was crowned. Was it two years back? Three? She never was very good at it and was aware of that fact. It was hard to learn something like dancing at her age, let alone find the time to practice.

Or somepony to practice with.

With a blush, she realized another reason she tried to learn. And the reason she never danced after the lessons.

Trixie.

She envied her doppelganger.

What would Starlight do if Trixie actually came to her and asked her to dance? Surely she wouldn’t be so easy-going and self-assured. There were many things about Trixie that made Starlight feel at ease, but there were equally many things that made her feel… odd.

Her partner kicked her hoof a bit, bringing her back to reality.

“Sorry,” she heard. “I’m pretty rusty when it comes to dancing.”

“You’re not so bad,” Starlight replied. “Better than me, at least.”

A soft chuckle in her ear.

“I had some recent practice,” her opposite giggled before pausing. “Wait. Do you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“Me not being so bad.”

“Oh…” Starlight thought as they swayed back and forth. “Yes. Rusty, but you lead well.”

“Do you think…” the other Starlight was getting flustered now. “Do you think, hypothetically, that the pony I’m in love with wouldn’t hate me for dancing with her?”

Starlight frowned. Could this be…?

“Hate you?” she asked. “Of course not.”

She took a deep breath.

“Dancing is a very important part of pony relationships,” she explained. “It’s symbolic, you see? A pair of ponies relying on one another; trusting each other enough to lean on each other as they move through their little world, avoiding collisions and other unpleasantries…”

Her voice trailed off.

“You’re right, of course,” her partner said. She began to slowly take them through a series of quarter turns. Starlight followed her steps and tried not to fall over her own hooves.

“That’s what I read about dancing, at least,” the fake continued. “And relationships.”

Starlight took a deep, calming breath. With every piece of information, her opposite reminded Starlight more and more of herself. But Starlight didn’t even care how the other mare managed it now. Neither was she bothered by the fact the pony was presumably in love with her.

She just wanted to help her.

The piece ended, and they disconnected for a moment.
Starlight looked into the other pony’s twinkling eyes and smiled. “Trixie thanks you for the dance.” She bowed with a smile.

“Thanks… uh… Trixie…” her opposite bowed as well.

She wanted to head for their seats again, but something made her linger. As the music started again, the fake extended her hoof and asked, “May I have this dance as well?”

Starlight giggled and covered her mouth.

“Why, of course!”

Their second time was better than the first. It was a dance called Manehattan this time; a four-beat dance based on steps in a square. The dance was meant to have a small footprint – perhaps to fit into its namesake’s cramped dancing halls, or to feel more intimate.

Whatever the reason, the partners would hold each other close, one hoof bent upwards at right angle while the other would be placed on waist or shoulder, depending on who was leading. To spice things up, they would alternate between dancing pressed against one another and dancing apart. The latter was the hard part – nothing to balance against but a single hoof as each pony stepped through their own four corners.

Her partner seemed to have more confidence and more zest in her movement. When she held her close, Starlight could feel the racing of the pony’s heart against her own. She didn’t dislike that feeling at all, as strange as it was to dance with her own spitting image.

The thought made her blush – just as her copy pushed her away to dance apart. As Starlight looked at her, the fake smiled but led on until they came together again.

“Enjoying yourself, Trixie?” she heard.

“Yes,” Starlight admitted simply.

“That’s good.”

They danced for a few more bars while Starlight pondered the identity of her partner. She decided to approach the problem from a different angle.

“I’ve got to ask…” Starlight began. “Who is the pony you love?”

“Who she is?” her other self echoed.

“Who is she,” Starlight clarified, “to you.”

Again, the leading pony pushed her away, her eyebrows furrowed with thought. She even turned her hoof this time, sending Starlight around in a pirouette. The world swirled around her and her heart beat quickly. For a moment, she thought she would fall, but her partner’s hoof held her firm and strong. In a few seconds, the fear was replaced by exhilaration.

The fake Starlight held her close again. They both drew heavy breaths for a few beats. The dance calmed down as the fake began to speak.

“She is precious to me,” she said quietly. “Even though it’s strange to admit it. It’s different from my other friends, even though it’s hard to explain why.”

She paused as they went through another square of steps.

“But each time she smiles,” her mirror continued softly, “each time we talk or just… stay together for a moment and let the world flow by… I feel it, in my heart.”

She swallowed.

“It’s like pain,” she added. “But with a minus sign. It is so intense that I feel it must hurt – but it doesn’t.”

Starlight didn’t say anything for a few moments. It was as though she really was talking to herself. Wasn’t this the way she felt when she was with Trixie? When they spent winter holidays huddled together, or relaxed after one of their harebrained schemes?

“I see,” she replied finally and cleared her throat softly. “Thank you. For the information, I mean.”

She knew what love was, of course. She understood infatuation and hormones, even if she was a bit too old for the latter. And she knew how she felt when she thought of Trixie.

“I feel the same way for another,” she admitted.

Now she knew why she was so flustered when she’d turned into Trixie. And why her brain had jumped to Trixie when it came to thinking of somepony to turn into.

Starlight knew all of those things, and yet this stranger had made it all click together.

For the first time, she could put a word to this beautiful anguish.

“I just never realized what it was,” she muttered.

Love.

She loved Trixie, she realized. She had loved her for the longest time – and had run away from it for just as long.

The dance ended and Starlight found herself standing opposite her mirror image, nearly overcome with emotion.

“Let’s sit down,” she heard, and let herself be led through the crowd.

A few moments, or a century, later, a purple hoof served her a piña colada. She smiled. Of course the doppelganger would know. She nodded appreciatively and sipped. A familiar purple hoof sat atop hers.

“I know how you feel,” her own voice told her. “It’s a lot to process. But you’ll be alright.”

Starlight looked up, holding back tears. Her other self looked at her with a supportive smile.

“How can you even say that?” Starlight asked. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“She might, and she might not,” her opposite answered calmly. “You can never know until you take the plunge.”

“You say it like it’s easy!” Starlight exclaimed angrily, then got a hold of herself and went on in a quiet, fast, even cadence.

“If the love is unrequited,” she explained, “then all of these feelings are for nothing. The minus sign gets thrown out and all that will be left is pain. I’ve seen this happen!”

She stopped herself before she could blurt out that she’d seen it in both her counseling job and her own checkered past. Granted, she’d eventually come around on the latter, rekindling her friendship with Sunburst. For a time, at least.

“It’s not for nothing,” the other unicorn said. “It can hurt, yes. It might hurt for years. But what hurts more is letting the opportunity slip between your hooves.”

Starlight winced and shot her opposite an angry glance.

In those dark years of her past when she cried herself to sleep, one of the things that allowed her to continue was the thought of Sunburst. All those things that could have been – that perhaps still could be, if she just kept going.

Life, of course, has turned out differently. Some of it had caused her pain, but life was good to her overall. She didn’t want to tip the balance back towards darkness with a stupid blunder.

“And you?” she asked. “Did you tell the pony you love how you feel?”

“I–” the fake swallowed. “I didn’t. No. Not yet.”

“Ah, so that’s it?” Starlight asked sardonically. “Is the pain just theoretical to you?”

“I’ve felt enough pain,” the other pony replied quietly. “As much as you have, I assure you. It is simply not the right time to tell her.”

“What, do you not know who she’s masquerading as?” Starlight asked sarcastically.

“I think I have a solid idea,” her opposite winked. Starlight’s blood froze.

She didn’t even know who this stranger was. The stranger knew her, obviously. Enough to mimic her mannerisms flawlessly while Starlight just complained about turning into a pony she loved. The way she talked about her love was like a mirror to Starlight’s own thoughts.

But the fake wasn’t Trixie. That much Starlight was sure of. She suspected Twilight again, but… Maybe five, six years ago. But the Princess has long since become a distant, old friend. Starlight didn’t even think there was something for them to rekindle there – from either side.

Her opposite’s merry laugh brought her back to reality. She looked up, wounded.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the fake said, suppressing laughter. “I know what you’re thinking. But it doesn’t matter. You made me realize something.”

She sipped her own piña colada, cleared her throat, and leaned forward. Her face grew serious.

“Look,” she said. “The thing is – this feeling I have? The love I told you about? The kind of love you are struggling with?”

She tapped her chest.

“That love gives me one thing – a feeling of absolute certainty. But it’s not like I know she feels the same way about me.”

She took a deep breath.

“I know I have to do it,” she said slowly, “because it’s like a fire inside me. If I don’t do it, I will burn, heart and soul, until there’s nothing in me but an endless pit of regret. I was there before, and it took me years to crawl out.”

She put a hoof on the table.

“I will do it for myself,” she said resolutely. “And I will do it tonight.”

With that, she drank the rest of the glass in a single swig. Starlight could do nothing but stare as her reflection stood up.

“Now, if you excuse me,” her doppelganger said. “I have a few arrangements to make. Will you give me the last dance before the unmasking?”

“But I—” Starlight began.

“I know,” her image interrupted her. “I’m just asking for the dance. You gave me a lot to think about, and you deserve to see who I really am.”

Starlight bit her lip and nodded.

She sat there, sipping her piña colada as the music began again. Another waltz, with ponies slowly drifting by her table. Thoughts were sloshing around her skull like the ocean. Trixie, the stranger, love and regret, all coming together to a boiling mixture pumping through her brain and her heart, threatening her sanity.

She wanted to go to Trixie right now and profess her love in front of every creature in the room. But of course, she didn’t even know who Trixie was masquerading as.

And she wanted to hide in a bathroom stall and never come out. But of course, she needed to know the truth about the stranger.

Maybe then, once the evening was done, she could face Trixie and tell her. Or she might not. She wasn’t sure.

Chapter 3, in which revelations lead to more chaos.

The stranger came back again. She stood by the table until Starlight registered her.

“It’s time,” she said softly. “Thorax will dispel the illusion after the next piece is done.”

She offered her hoof and smiled.

“Would you like to be my last dance for the evening?”

Starlight looked up into her eyes. Calm, collected, friendly. Whatever would happen tonight would happen. She reached up.

“Yes.”

“You should lead,” the stranger said. “It helps to see both sides of the coin.”

Starlight was taken aback at first but nodded.

The music began. For the third time this evening, Starlight would dance in a triple meter.

“Another waltz? Must be all the rage,” Starlight noted as she shifted around to a leading position.

“At least you get more practice,” her other self noted. “Most ponies would dance a one-step waltz to this, but hey –”

She chuckled.

“A meter is a meter.”

Starlight gulped and grabbed her opposite by the waist. A deep breath later, she moved her hoof up and pushed the stranger half a step away.

“Let’s do it right,” she decided. “One-step waltz?”

“Let’s,” her partner agreed and put her hoof over the one Starlight put against her upper back.

“One two three – one two three –” Starlight counted quietly before making the first step.

Leading was quite a different experience from being led. The steps were mirrored, for starters. She struggled to hold the initiative as the music’s unrelenting rhythm ticked in her head. Even so, her opposite wasn’t a mere thing to lead. Her gentle pulls and pushes helped Starlight stay her course and maneuver through the crowd. In a couple of bars, she began to gain confidence.

“You’re doing well,” her partner commented. “One-step waltz can be a challenge for quadrupeds.”

“I noticed,” Starlight huffed, then quickly paused to regain balance from a missed step.

“It’s not easy if you can’t lean against the other dancer,” she noted, trying to make sense of the jumble of hooves on the ground.

“But you can look them in the face,” the stranger said. “In fact, you should.”

Starlight looked up. Her own face smiled back at her.

“But what if I don’t dance right?” she asked.

“Don’t worry – you will.”

They swayed with the music. The swinging tempo carried them through steps that would be precarious at best for a single pony. But just like during the waltz, the partner was always there to hold her steady – and would herself need help once every so often.

“I should dance more,” Starlight decided. “But I’m not sure I have anypony to dance with.”

“I think you have at least one option,” her mirror replied with a soft laugh.

“She doesn’t like dances,” Starlight replied with a sigh.

“Does she not like dances – or dancing?”

“She doesn’t like…” Starlight thought, “...high society. She says they are no fun.”

“Are you having fun?”

Starlight thought.

“I guess I am.”

“I have no doubt she would enjoy dancing with you,” the stranger said.

“You don’t even know her,” Starlight rolled her eyes.

“Maybe I don’t, maybe I do,” the stranger replied mysteriously.

“Do you think your love would like to dance?” Starlight asked.

“Oh, I know she would.”

Starlight felt herself blush again.

“I have something else to tell you before we part,” the stranger said. “Do you know what the real Trixie would enjoy even more than a night of dancing without you? Here and now, I mean?”

Once again, Starlight really thought about Trixie. She was out there somewhere, in a crowd of ponies she thought were too stuck-up to give a second glance to.

She should have been looking at her this whole time. If she had found her, together they could have made the evening even more fun – for both of them. Maybe show the nobles a thing or two.

Starlight smiled.

“She would enjoy a bit of,” she licked her lip, “mischief.”

Her opposite laughed.

“That is a good way to put it.”

The dance slowly wound down. They parted and stood up normally. It was a strange feeling. Suddenly, Starlight felt very small and very much alone.

A clink of cutlery on glass.

Starlight perked up and peered over the crowd. On the podium stood princess Celestia – young and beautiful like she was in the old books. Only her mane color was in the wrong order.

Didn’t Thorax joke about that once?

The princess tapped her glass again before speaking.

“I am most pleased to see you, dear guests, enjoying this special evening,” she said. “In a few moments, I will dispel the illusion. If you wish to make final guesses or comments, you should do so now. And should you wish to keep your anonymity or prefer your current partner to remain unknown to you, this is a perfect opportunity to bid them good night.”

Starlight looked at the stranger and found her looking back at her.

“I’m not going anywhere yet,” the stranger assured her, before glancing behind her for a brief moment.

Starlight followed her eyes. Behind them was a crowd, of course, ponies and the like. She recognized one of them – the black-maned cellist she collided with at the beginning of the evening. For some reason, the mare stared at her with venom in her eyes.

Is she still mad about me bumping into her?

Other than the seemingly hostile pony, the only thing of note was the bathroom sign in the distance.

Perhaps the stranger has had one too many sodas.

“Any guesses who I am?” the stranger asked.

“None at all,” Starlight said. “The only pony who knows me this well is Trixie. I wish you were her – but you don’t act like her at all.”

“And you don’t act like Trixie anymore, either,” the stranger replied and chuckled. “You tried for a bit though. You obviously know her well. I hope it works out for you. And for me.”

“But I –”

“I know who you are,” the stranger interrupted her. “Starlight Glimmer. You’re not a good liar.”

“Does that mean…” Starlight swallowed. “Does that mean you love me?”

How would the stranger deal with unrequited love in practice?

To her surprise, the answer was a pleasant giggle.

“Oh Starlight…” the stranger said. “You really shouldn’t make assumptions, you know? But I’m sure next time, you’ll have the whole context.”

“Wait, what?” Starlight frowned. “I heard you in the bathroom lamenting how you turned into the pony you love!”

The stranger chuckled again. It started to get on Starlight's nerves.

“Now, dear guests,” Celestia spoke again. “It is time for… revelations!”

With that, Starlight’s world filled with cold green fire. As before, each bit of her burned and burned, burning away until all that was left was herself, panting. She raised a hoof to her face.

It was a reassuring shade of purple. As was her hair – colored stripes and everything.

She looked up at the stranger.

In front of her stood –

Herself.

Another Starlight Glimmer, grinning like an idiot.

“And now you know,” the other Starlight said. “Good luck!”

“Wait, what –” Panic was quickly mounting in Starlight’s chest.

The other Starlight reared back on her hooves and shouted to the entire crowd.

“You call that an illusion? Behold! The Amazing Doubled Mare Trick!”

She pointed at Starlight as the crowd stepped back from them. Starlight looked around, flustered. Where the cellist had been moments ago now stood no other than The Great and Powerful Trixie.

Of course! No wonder Starlight bumped into her in the beginning – she was right next to her when they drank the potion! And who else would be so cross with some other pony stealing their visage!

“And now,” the other Starlight declared once she had the room’s attention, “I will make the two mares one again!”

She whipped her hoof down in a swift motion.

Something cracked and the area drowned in gray smoke.

Was that Trixie’s smoke bomb? Starlight thought in panic as she coughed.

Something jumped past her. She spun around. The smoke quickly dissipated and she found herself standing in the circle of shocked ponies – alone. Only a small gap remained where somepony no doubt pushed their way through the crowd a second ago.

Without another word, Starlight jumped forward in pursuit. Behind her, the crowd burst out into wild commotion, but she didn’t care.

The absolute idiot! She cursed as she raced towards the bathrooms. What did she do?!

Starlight almost kicked in the doors and used her magic to slam open all of the stalls at once.

Empty. All of them.

Suddenly, she felt something. The same strange magical impression she’d noticed here before. Only now did she finally realize what it was.

The telltale signature of time magic.

Panic rose in her chest.

“Twilight will kill me!” Starlight screamed. “Using forbidden time magic for something this stupid – argh! She has to be out of her mind!”

Her horn was flaring red with anger now.

“No, no, no no no no!” she rambled. “No – I have to fix this!”

She looked left and right.

“Okay, plan C!” she decided as she jumped inside one of the toilet stalls and closed the doors behind her.

Outside, she heard the firm and commanding tone of her old teacher demanding answers.

“I’ll go to the past and stop her,” Starlight rambled to herself. “Yeah. Yeah!”

The memory of the last time she used temporal transference unfolded before her. It has been years, but she would not forget such pivotal moments of her life; Twilight coming to her castle, finding Starlight ready to take her revenge.

The unicorn focused on her memories of the magic she used that day. The memories were hazy at first, but as she focused, they sharpened.

Life slowed, matter froze, time stood still.

She saw it with her inner eye.

A gash in the fabric of reality. Beyond it, a trace to the past, weak and unstable. So that’s what it was! That strange magic she had felt the first time she came here! She felt it stretch backwards and forwards. That’s where the other Starlight came through – and that was where Starlight would follow.

The exit point lured her like a shining beacon, cold as the depths of space.

Through a mounting layer of fear, her mind reached out to it. Like every other time she’d used time magic, the contact reeked of pure wrongness. The coordinates were set. The spell was ready, already crumbling away in her head as her mind refused to truly comprehend its totality.

Now or never.

Starlight took one final deep breath before forcing all of her magic through her horn at once. The spell burned away like an effigy and reality shattered around her.

There was never a way to really prepare for time travel. Starlight tried to scrape together navigational constructs, but they were torn apart before she could stabilize them properly. Sensations came to her before their cause; thoughts became jumbled in her head and the magical energy flowed in and out of her chaotically. She felt her entire being unravel and reform again and again.

But she persisted, forcing her way through the wound she tore through spacetime.

Chapter 4, in which chaos leads to more revelations.

Nothingness.
Coldness.
Wet, hard floor.
Pain.

Starlight coughed and tried to stand up. Her hooves shook and gave way under her. Dimly she recalled that last time she’d done this. Back then, she’d had the spell committed to parchment. It had helped to channel her thoughts for the first few jumps. Now, years later, her memory held it quite imperfectly.

She shivered as she stood up, leaning against the stall door and cackling. She’d lived through the ordeal, after all.

She coughed – and tensed as she heard someone open the bathroom door.

An unsteady set of hoofsteps, a creak of a stall door next to her. Then – silence.

Her mind was still swimming and her temples throbbed with pain.

Starlight groped for the door as she heard a flush. She stumbled out of the stall and leaned against the sink. A moment later, she managed to turn the water on and splash some on her face.

As she watched the water spiral down into the drain, she winced.

“Why did I have to turn into the mare I’m in love with?!” she whined.

The stall door behind her creaked again.

Suddenly, Starlight was filled with a horrible sense of déjà vu. She froze.

The pony behind her gasped.

That single sound was enough to uncoil all of the tension inside Starlight. She jumped up to the ceiling like a spring, and spun around as soon as her hooves were on solid ground. She leaned back and pierced the darkness of the bathroom stall with her terrified gaze.

On a closed toilet sat a familiar blue pony with a silver-and-blue mane.

“Trixie?” Starlight blurted out.

The blue unicorn’s face went through a quick series of twitches before she grinned in the most fake way Starlight had ever seen in her life. The other unicorn jumped up and bowed.

“The one and only!” she declared and stepped shakily out of the stall. “The Grrreat and Powerfulll… Trrrrrixie!!!”

Starlight tried not to laugh.

“Am I hamming it up too much?” the fake magician asked.

“No! No…” Starlight replied. Oh sweet Celestia, I never realized how bad my impressions are.

“You’re… uh…” she tried to calm herself. “...right on the money, just…”She frowned and groped for reality.“Trixie doesn’t talk in first person that much.” Each word anchored her. “She’d probably say something like…”She batted her eyelashes and puckered her lips. “Is Trrrrixie hamming it up enough?”

Trixie snickered. That snicker alone would have been a dead giveaway for anypony who’d known Starlight for more than five minutes.

“Your… performance is pretty good, too!” Trixie – no, past-Starlight – commented. She walked beside Starlight and turned the water on. Starlight watched her and tried not to stare. And failed.

“I bet it is…” she muttered. “Yours is slipping a bit, though.”

This was just too bizarre. Starlight had traveled through time before, but she had never interacted with herself. What if she said something wrong? Would she undo time itself or something?

“Tell me, then!” her past self blurted out in a voice shaky with barely contained curiosity. “Did the Great and Powerful Trixie hear you say that you…” she lowered her voice into a shaky whisper, “...you turned into the pony you are in love with?”

Despite herself, Starlight blushed.

“I have,” she admitted. A few hours ago. “But that’s beside the point!”

“Oh, is it?” The past Starlight was on offense now. “Don't you think the Great and Powerful Trixie would want to know who is so-o desperately in love with her roommate?”

“Oh puh-lease!” Starlight waved a hoof dismissively. “You know Trixie has her own room.”

“Ha! Somepony close to her, then. But who?”

She is really going to play this game, isn’t she? Starlight asked herself. Then again, she had done just that when she was in her place. She still remembered how weird it felt to think that somepony was madly in love with her – somepony who had quickly turned out not to be Trixie at all.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Starlight said sarcastically.

“You really are good at this,” the fake hummed. “That’s exactly what I –”

That slip was even more embarrassing than how she remembered it.

“...what Starlight would say, I mean,” the younger Starlight finished.

“Right…” Starlight rolled her eyes.

Wow. I am soooo subtle. Maybe I should give up my day job and help Flim and Flam con ponies.

“And you’d know because…?” She would let herself stew in it for a bit.

“Trixie” looked left and right until she grinned and blurted out in an unconvincing tone: “The Great and Powerful Trixie knows many things!”

“Ah, that’s how we’re playing it then?” Starlight noted. “Alright.”

“Trixie begs your pardon?” her past self blinked.

Starlight stood up and sighed. She could only watch her past self make an idiot out of herself for so long.

“How about,” she said calmly, “we honor Thorax’s wish and play his little game?”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

So this was it. She had made the number one error of all time travelers – she had gone to the past to dispel some great catastrophe and inadvertently become the cause of it.

Great.

And probably Powerful.

“You want to know who I really am,” she told her past self.

Ah, to Tartarus with it! Actually, she might end up in Tartarus for all of this. But she’d be damned if she didn’t enjoy the little peaceful time she had left.

“And I wouldn’t mind company for the evening,” she continued. “If you can actually guess who I am…”

She shrugged. As if.

“Then you’re a better mare than I,” she finished. She reached out with her hoof. “Do we have a deal?”

Maybe she really should try to con ponies.

Her past self considered the proposition. Starlight could almost see the gears turn behind her eyes.

“Trixie accepts your challenge.” Past Starlight shook her hoof. It felt as weird as it did the first time. Where past and future meet, heh.

“How do we go about this?” the blue unicorn asked.

Starlight shrugged again.

“How about we mingle,” she smirked, “...Trixie? You ask me questions and I ask you some?”

Her younger self nodded enthusiastically. Starlight wasn’t sure if it was the guise of Trixie or something else – but she found it almost cute.

They were playing “spot-the-alicorn.” Starlight knew it had helped her calm the nerves last time. And after all, she needed some time for her own thoughts.

During her first little romp through time and space, she had gained the feeling time was a surprisingly malleable thing. After all, it had only taken a little push to erase the whole of modern Equestrian history.

She shuddered.

“Alicorn!” the pony who looked like Trixie called out. “Three o’clock, looks like Luna!”

“Didn’t we see that one already?” Starlight asked.

“This one is taller.”

“Huh. I guess you’re right.”

As strange as it was, each time Starlight had changed the present by altering the past, it had seemed as if reality itself was somehow aware of its wrongness. According to Twilight, at least, the jungle world’s Zecora had said as much. Then again, Zecora.

Starlight knew of no way to visit any such parallel worlds. She hoped they had simply disappeared each time Starlight’s meddling had created another offshoot. The alternative was that they were still out there, worlds doomed by Starlight’s vengeance. She shuddered.

“Sweet Celestia,” she muttered.

“Where?” her younger self perked up.

Starlight blinked and her eyes darted across the crowd. She jabbed her chin to the alicorn who was just entering from the gardens. “There, walking in. The color order of her mane is reversed.”

“I bet that’s Thorax,” the other unicorn noted. “A while back, he mentioned Celestia would look more interesting with her mane like that.”

“You don’t say…”

Starlight thought back to what Twilight told her about her own time travel escapades.

Apparently, Twilight herself had once used unstable magic to jump back a week, if only for a brief moment. Just long enough to give herself half of a warning – the other half of which should have been not to worry, but it seemed the universe had seen it fit to pull her back to the present before she could finish.

Thus, she’d ended up worrying for a whole week and weeding out potential disasters left and right. This had ultimately culminated in her sneaking into the Starswirl Wing of the Royal Library and stealing the very spell her older self had used. And use it she had, after realizing she worried over nothing. Of course, to try to tell her younger self not to worry over nothing, and being pulled back mid-sentence.

And so on.

“Is that Luna?” the fake Trixie asked. “She looks awfully small…”

“Her?” Starlight squinted. “Must be somepony else. Her mane is bright blue and too short.”

“The cutie mark matches. And she’s still an alicorn. Point for me!”

“That’s fair.”

Of course, what Twilight had gone through was an example of a stable time loop. Her future self had traveled back in time to influence her past self, leading to the time travel in the first place.

Just like what was happening to Starlight right now. In that sense, her current actions were determined in advance – and so were the actions of her past self, oblivious as she was to the fact.

Did that mean she’d never had any free will to begin with?

No, she shook her head. Even if there was only one path through life based on the sum of all current conditions, at the present moment she did make decisions. Maybe she was a pawn of fate, but she didn’t see fate’s hoof moving her. If fate was real, it was unknowable to her – and thus, meaningless to her personally.

Fate might as well be nothing but a record of her actions, which she could only see in hindsight. Unless she went back in time, of course. But even then, there could still be some greater context – other dimensions she could not even imagine, in which even the time loop would be nothing but a curious footnote.

“There’s a Nightmare Moon,” Starlight observed.

“That’s in pretty poor taste, isn’t it?” her past self scoffed.

“Is Nightmare Night in poor taste?” she retorted.

“Good point,” the Trixie look-alike said. “And a point for you.”

What started my own loop? Starlight wondered.

By definition, the loop started itself. But in that case, was it simply a matter of fate for the loop to be there? Had the universe folded itself according to some unknown, greater principle?

Once again, she dismissed the notion. If there were principles like that, they ware beyond her ability to comprehend. More importantly, that kind of deterministic view would only lead her to existential dread.

She groped for some alternative. There could have been some kind of a primer, she thought. An instigating event.

Her mind turned back to Twilight’s case.

In some original timeline, Twilight could simply be living her life. Then, one of those many possible disasters would happen. Cerberus roaming the wilds, a dam ready to burst, or something equally as important. As a result, Twilight could have been stricken by grief and remorse for not preventing the disaster. She would seek out the time spell and go to the past to prevent the calamity by warning her younger self.

This was the point at which Twilight would have broken out of the deterministic model – and would cause a paradox. If the disaster was prevented, there was no reason for Twilight to actually go to the past – if she didn’t go to the past, the disaster would have happened.

And so on.

Before Starlight had learned of Twilight’s own adventure, she would have imagined this would create two split realities; a disastrous one, and a safe one. The disastrous one would lead to the creation of the safe one while continuing on. And the occupants of the safe one would be none the wiser.

But it seemed the universe was far more elegant.

By pulling Twilight back at just the right moment, it didn’t matter what the alicorn had been going to warn her younger self about – be it a dam bursting, or wasting a week on futile worries.

With the alternatives boiling down to equal action on Twilight’s side – delivering her past self half a warning – those alternative universes collapsed into a single possibility. There was no more need to have an offshoot universe for every option – a doomed world, a safe world, one with Twilight warning her younger self about a theoretical disaster, and so on.

Thus, the loop stabilized.

But what of the original timeline? What happened to the Twilight who broke the rules of causality and defied fate?

The only answer Starlight could think of chilled her to the bone. It was in the word itself – primer. To do its job, a primer would burn itself out. The original timeline became self-contradicting and was discarded. All it left behind was a remnant devoid of paradoxes.

A stable time loop. A scar on spacetime.

“Cadence!” Trixie’s voice broke Starlight’s silent pondering.

“Where?” Starlight looked around. Her past self pointed. “Oh yeah, and she’s talking to herself. Imagine that.”

The younger her snickered. “Oh, do you think one of them is the real one?”

Starlight smirked. “I feel like Cadence wouldn’t think of herself during the transformation.”

The other pony said something, but Starlight was already deep in her own thoughts again.

Maybe there still was a reality where the dam broke. The only thing she knew was that she wasn’t living in that one. Just like she wasn’t living in the reality outside of her own time loop.

And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder. What could have caused her own loop in the first place?

Just like with Twilight’s case, all Starlight could do was to hypothesize. Maybe there was a timeline in which she didn’t confess to Trixie. She gulped as she realized she’d spent the whole evening with another pony – while leaving Trixie to sulk in some corner, angry at the world.

And probably at Starlight.

Would that make Trixie leave Starlight’s life for good? And would Trixie leaving fill Starlight with enough regret to go to the past and try to right this wrong, starting this whole loop in the first place?

She wanted to say it wouldn’t. But she had kinda jumped to the past because she was angry.

She shuddered, imagining that other self. Doomed to replace her reality with a better one for somepony else and disappearing from existence as a result. Just in case there was such a pony, she sent them her wordless thanks.

Starlight sighed.

She was going to play this out, she decided. Even though she barely remembered what she’d said last time. So she was just going to do it by the seat of her pants. If that broke reality, she would probably never know.

And if Twilight sends me to Tartarus for this... Starlight bit her lip, but then snickered. Then maybe fate is real after all – and not very keen on my hubris.

Chapter 5, in which a promise is made.

Starlight cleared her throat when she realized she hadn't spoken in a while.

“There’s another Luna,” she said, indicating with her chin.

“Where? Oh, I see her! Didn’t we see that one already?”

“Nah, this one has blue eyes,” Starlight lied.

“Well spotted, Starlight!” Trixie cheered and squinted into the crowd.

Starlight blushed. Was she really this gullible?

“Thanks, Trixie. I mean…” she chuckled. “Sorry, I’m messing the game up.”

Trixie was smiling benevolently.

“Nonsense,” she said. “You are just being yourself.”

Just being myself, Starlight thought. Why not?

They chatted for a while. Her younger self tried to figure out who she was and Starlight took a strange delight in leading her on. Ultimately, the fake Trixie’s rage boiled over. It was strange to watch herself get angry, get calm, and channel that anger into productivity. It brought a smile to her face.

“Shall we dance?” her other self asked.

She giggled.

“I’m game, Trixie.”

They made it to the dancing floor. Her counterpart seemed apprehensive and Starlight couldn’t help but prod her a little.

“What’s wrong? You’re not good at dancing, Trix?” Starlight asked mockingly.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie…” her younger self gulped, “is good at everything! But why not allow Starlight to lead? After all, Starlight seems to enjoy taking charge in so many things!”

That she did. Usually.

“Not dancing,” she snickered. “But I’ll do my best. Just don’t laugh. Or you’ll regret it later!”

Starlight was suddenly very glad her older self let her lead last time – she had some practice now, even if she only danced three times this evening. So far, at least.

“Is that a promise?” Trixie wriggled her eyebrow.

It’s like I’m seducing myself! Starlight thought and blushed. No. Let’s live this fantasy a bit longer. Let it really be Trixie for just one dance.

She bit her lip, grabbed her counterpart, and set out dancing. She counted her steps in the beginning, but it quickly became unnecessary. Instead, she just enjoyed the thing she’d wanted to do for a long time – dance with Trixie.

She promised herself she would dance with the real one as soon as she could.

Unless she was sent to Tartarus.

She swallowed, stumbled, and kicked her partner.

“Sorry, I’m pretty rusty when it comes to dancing.”

“You’re not so bad,” Trixie’s voice muttered into her ear. “Better than me, at least.”

“I had some… recent practice,” Starlight chuckled.

And I’ll still have a few dances scheduled for tonight.

She paused.

“Wait… do you really mean it?” she asked.

“Mean what?”

“Me not being so bad,” Starlight clarified. An idea rose in her mind and set a little flicker of expectancy in her chest.

“Yes,” her younger self replied, and Starlight knew she meant it. “Rusty – but you lead well.”

“Do you think,” Starlight couldn’t help it. “Do you think, hypothetically, that the pony I’m in love with wouldn’t hate me for dancing with her?”

It was out before she could stop it. She was thinking of Trixie now – the real Trixie – and felt her cheeks flush crimson again. She was somewhere in that crowd, after all.

“Hate you?” Her young self scoffed. “Of course not!” She went on a diatribe about the cultural significance of dancing while Starlight thought.

She knew Trixie was shapeshifted into that cellist pony. The gray one with black hair. She shouldn’t be hard to find. Unless more than one pony was masquerading as her, of course. At the same time, Starlight doubted she couldn’t tell Trixie apart from any other ones.

The thought of dancing with Trixie made her heart soar and flutter and sent goosebumps up her spine.

They talked more, about relationships and other things, until the dance ended.

“Trixie thanks you for the dance,” her counterpart bowed.

“Thanks, uh, Trixie…” She mimicked her.

She could go right now. Find Trixie and dance. But she didn’t feel ready. Not yet.

“May I have this dance as well?” she asked.

Her younger self giggled and replied: “Why, of course!”

The next dance was called Manehattan. She was bolder this time, and her partner seemed to like it. Why, she remembered liking it herself. They danced and talked.

“I’ve got to ask…” her younger self asked suddenly. “Who is the pony you love?”

“Who she is?” Starlight asked confusedly. Wasn’t it obvious? Wait, she was mixing them up.

“Who is she, to you,” the other pony clarified.

She thought about it as she looked at the image of Trixie. As charming as ever, but it wasn’t her. No, it wasn’t her who made her heart flutter. It was the pony who now looked like the ashen musician.

“She is precious to me,” she said quietly. For some reason, getting even those words out felt like climbing a mountain. It was as though the wind could blow her love apart if she spoke of it too eagerly.

“Even though it’s strange to admit it,” she added when she realized she’d fallen silent again. “It’s… different from my other friends, even though it’s hard to explain why.”

Her other self looked at her as they pulled apart. For a moment, “Trixie’s” smile looked so much like the real thing.

“But each time she smiles,” Starlight explained, “each time we talk or just… stay together for a moment and let the world flow by… I feel it, in my heart.”

She swallowed. The feelings welled inside her and threatened to burst right out.

“It’s like pain,” her voice cracked and her counterpart blinked. “But…” Starlight added, “...with a minus sign. It is so intense that I feel it must hurt – but it doesn’t.”

She was blabbering now, she knew. Just saying things as they came to her. But it felt too good to give her feelings a voice for once.

And it seemed the wind would not blow her love apart after all.

“I see,” Trixie’s voice replied softly. “Thank you. For the information, I mean.”

She paused.

“I feel the same way for another,” she admitted. She fell silent for a moment. Starlight gave her all the time she knew she needed.

“I just never realized what it was,” her younger self finished. Her face twitched and her legs became unsteady.

Love, Starlight thought. This was when I figured it out.

“Let’s sit down,” Starlight said.

She led her younger self to a seat. A few moments later, she brought her their favorite cocktail.

Starlight held her young self’s hoof and told her it would be alright. She let her pile her fears onto her and reassured her. When she heard those words, mere hours ago, they resonated with her somewhat. But now that she said them herself, she truly believed them.

“And you?” her younger self asked. “Did you tell the pony you love how you feel?”

Starlight swallowed. “I didn’t. No. Not yet.”

“Ah, so that’s it?” the other pony asked. “Is the pain just theoretical to you?”

Always deflecting… Starlight shook her head. Thorax was right. This was an excellent opportunity for self-reflection. Even if time travel might not have been the way he envisioned it.

She spoke quietly.

“I’ve felt enough pain. As much as you have, I assure you. It is simply not the right time to tell her.”

“What, do you not know who she’s masquerading as?” The young one’s sarcasm was getting annoying.

She probably still thinks I’m in love with her! she realized.

“I think I have a solid idea,” the older Starlight winked. A jab for a jab.

She laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she suppressed more laughter. “I know what you’re thinking. But it doesn’t matter. You made me realize something.”

She sipped her piña colada. Liquid courage.

“Look,” Starlight said. “The thing is – this feeling I have? The love I told you about? The kind of love you are struggling with?”

She held a hoof to her chest. She didn’t remember exactly what she said last time. So she listened to her heart – and talked.

“That love gives me one thing,” she said. “A feeling of absolute certainty.”

She paused.

“But it’s not like I know she feels the same way about me.”

She took a deep breath. Her chest was on fire and the words flew out of her of their own volition.

“I know I have to do it because it’s like a fire inside me,” she went on. “If I don’t do it, I will burn, heart and soul, until there’s nothing in me but an endless pit of regret. I was there before, and it took me years to crawl out.”

She put a hoof down. Her counterpart didn’t say anything.

“I will do it for myself,” Starlight said resolutely. “And I will do it tonight.”

There. She promised herself. Quite literally.

She drank the rest of the cocktail and stood up, then looked down at her bewildered younger self.

“Now, if you excuse me,” she said. “I have a few arrangements to make. Will you give me the last dance before the unmasking?”

“But I –” the other pony began. Starlight cut her off.

“I know. I’m just asking for the dance,” she smiled. “You gave me a lot to think about, and you deserve to see who I really am.”

She didn’t wait for the other pony’s nod. She headed out.

There were two things she needed to do.

A dance with Trixie.
Close the time loop
And maybe not get any prison time.
Three things.

Chapter 6, in which the last dance of the evening is had.

It was surprisingly easy to find Trixie. Starlight just looked for the angry gray earth pony who didn’t dance with anyone, sat by herself, and sipped martini.

“Shall we dance?” Starlight asked.

The earth pony measured her with her purple eyes and her nose furrowed. Starlight clenched her teeth. Of course, to Trixie, she must have been nothing less than a painful reminder of her companion vanishing for the evening.

“You may not!” she spat. Starlight’s smile grew wider. As she thought, she could tell Trixie by her inflection alone.

“Furthermore,” the earth pony continued, “I will have you know your disguise is an insult to both my friend and myself!”

Starlight blushed with regret. She shouldn’t have left Trixie alone. But if she hadn’t… she shook her head.

“Oh yeah?” she asked. “What if I told you I was the real deal, Trixie?”

The earth pony blinked.

“How did you –” she blurted out. “Starlight?!”

She stood up and frowned again.

“You left me –”

“Yes, I know,” Starlight replied. “I left you hanging. I got confused, thought you were somepony else.” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Trixie,” she said.

“I lost track of you after the transformation," Trixie muttered. "Somepony bumped into me and when I looked, you were gone..."

"That somepony was me," Starlight laughed. "I should have realized it was you by that glare alone."

"That was you?" Trixie's eyes widened, and then she frowned. "You turned into me..." she said slowly. "Was that intentional?"

Starlight chortled. “No,” she admitted. “But I’m glad I did. I’m myself again, as you can see. I had a very, very long evening, and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I was setting some things up with… an old friend.”

“A friend more important than Trixie?” the other pony asked flatly.

“Never,” Starlight replied firmly. “I don’t know anypony as Great and Powerful as you.”

Trixie gave her a little smile.

“Look, Trixie,” Starlight said. “I… did a lot of thinking. I want to talk to you. Alone.”

“We can leave,” Trixie offered. “You know how much Trixie despises this place.”

“Let’s not,” Starlight shook her head. “Not yet. I have a better plan.”

Trixie cocked her head and squinted.

“Which is?”

“Let’s make sure this evening ends with a real bang.”

She reached out with her hoof.

“But first,” she asked again. “Shall we dance?”

“Trixie has to admit,” the earth pony hummed, “you are not a bad dancer, Starlight.”

“Thanks, Trixie,” Starlight replied softly and gave a small chuckle.

She pushed her partner away, each mare balancing against the other’s front hoof, and stepped forward, pirouetting Trixie into an embrace.

“I had some practice tonight,” she added.

“I see,” Trixie replied. Her voice sounded deeper, huskier, and she leaned into Starlight with eagerness. The purple unicorn pulled at her partner’s hoof and sent her spinning clockwise. They separated again and continued with simpler steps while they both caught their breath.

“Should Trixie be jealous of this… other pony?”

Starlight moved in closer. Even though she didn’t smell or feel like Trixie, Starlight couldn’t help but blush.

“The other pony?” she asked stupidly.

“The one you danced with before Trixie,” the magician clarified. Her eyes pierced Starlight again.

“Oh no,” Starlight snickered. “I actually stepped on a few hooves back then.”

“Poor filly,” Trixie said mockingly. “Or was it a stallion?”

“A mare,” Starlight said. “About my age. Maybe a couple of hours younger. Don’t worry, she stepped on my hooves too.”

“Will you dance with her again?” There was jealousy in her voice.

“One last dance tonight,” Starlight replied softly and felt Trixie stiffen. “It’s all part of the plan. You’ll like it. And I promise I will take you dancing next time.”

“Go on…”

“About the dancing or the plan?” Starlight asked.

“We can talk about dancing later. You asked Trixie for a smoke bomb?”

“Yeah,” Starlight nodded. She pushed and turned them, then moved across the floor. Trixie followed her lead. While obviously out of practice herself, the magician was surprisingly steady on her hind legs. Must have been all the pose-striking.

Starlight stopped and turned them around.

“Do you see that sign?” she asked. “Back in there, over my shoulder.”

“Trixie sees it. Bathrooms?”

“I will dance with the other pony around the middle of the room,” Starlight said. “I want you to stay close by, between us and the bathroom. Be ready for a swift exit.”

“Is that why Starlight needs Trixie’s smoke bomb?”

“Yes,” Starlight nodded. “I want to show these nobles an evening they won’t forget.”

Trixie’s response was a subdued, evil laugh. “Trixie likes that plan…” she muttered, then looked up. “But what about the other mare? This whole thing doesn’t seem nice to her, even though she stole you from Trixie for the whole evening.”

Starlight bit her lip and thought.

“She’s…” Starlight paused. “Let’s say she’s in on the joke. Or she will be, at least. She pranked me like this before.”

“Oh? You never mentioned anything like that…”

Starlight felt the music wind down.

“It would take too long to explain,” she said. “I will tell you the whole story – later tonight. Right now, I want you to trust me. Do you trust me, Trixie?”

The music stopped and they separated.

Trixie, in the guise of a gray earth pony, smiled and produced a small round pellet from behind her back. Like a magic trick.

“Always,” she said. “Make it count.”

“Consider it done,” Starlight took the smoke bomb and headed back to her younger self.

Starlight found herself still at the same table.

“It’s time,” she said quietly, and smiled. “Thorax will dispel the illusion after the next piece is done.”

She reached out.

“Would you like to be my last dance for the evening?”

Her other self smiled at her sheepishly.

“Yes.”

It pained her a bit to set herself up like this.

But without the mad scramble and journey to the past, without talking to herself and dancing with herself, Starlight might have never come to terms with her feelings. And without being there for her younger self, she would never have found it in herself to vow to reveal those feelings to Trixie.

And without Trixie…

She didn’t want to think of a life like that.

She let the other pony lead. The one-step waltz was a bit more involved, but it was growing on her. The younger self counted under her breath and the older complimented her skills.

“It’s not easy if you can’t lean against the other person,” her younger self noted.

“But you can look them in the face,” Starlight replied. “In fact, you should.”

The pony looked up with Trixie’s face. Behind her, Starlight saw the real Trixie, loitering at the edge of the dancing floor. She smiled back at her. Trixie rolled her eyes.

“But what if I don’t dance right?” her younger self asked.

“Don’t worry,” Starlight said gently. “You will.”

They danced more. The younger self shared her worries about Trixie not wanting to dance, and Starlight assured her she would love to.

“You don’t even know her,” the younger Starlight rolled her eyes.

“Maybe I don’t, maybe I do,” Starlight replied.

“Do you think your love would like to dance?”

“Oh, I know she would.”

They both blushed again.

“I have something else to tell you before we part,” Starlight said. “Do you know what the real Trixie would enjoy even more than a night of dancing without you?”

She smirked.

“Here and now, I mean.”

The younger self frowned, then smiled and replied: “She would enjoy a bit of… mischief.”

Starlight laughed.

“That is a good way to put it.”

The dance ended, and Thorax – disguised as reverse-maned Celestia – delivered his closing speech. Starlight couldn’t resist – she toyed with her younger self for just a few more moments.

The time drew closer. Starlight felt her heart beat fast as she checked her mane. The smoke pellet was still there.

Showtime.

“I know who you are,” she said firmly. “Starlight Glimmer. You’re not a good liar.”

“Does that mean…” past Starlight swallowed. “Does that mean you love me?”

“Oh Starlight…” the older unicorn chuckled. “You really shouldn’t make assumptions, you know? But I’m sure next time, you’ll have the whole context.”

“Wait, what? I heard you in the bathroom lamenting how you turned into the pony you love!”

Starlight chuckled again and shook her head.

What a dummy I was. And probably still am. Ah well.

“Now, dear guests,” Thorax spoke again. “It is time for… revelations!”

Starlight stepped to the side as her counterpart’s confused face drowned in cold green fire. She glanced to the side, towards the bathrooms. The gray pony came ablaze as well. When she looked back, her younger self had regained their shared form.

The past Starlight looked at her older counterpart and froze in shock. She couldn’t help but grin like an idiot.

“And now you know,” Starlight said. “Good luck!”

“Wait, what –”

Starlight reared back and shouted theatrically. “You call that an illusion? Behold! The Amazing Doubled Mare Trick!”

The crowd murmured as she pointed at her doppelganger. Behind her, Trixie’s eyes were wide and her mouth was agape.

“And now I will make the two mares one again!” Starlight declared, took the smoke pellet from her mane, and slammed it into the ground.

The smoke filled the vicinity and began dissipating almost immediately, but she was ready. She side-stepped her blundering younger self and jumped forward, her horn flaring up with magic. The room exploded in chaos as Starlight bounded towards Trixie and held her close. She felt the unicorn grip her and smiled.

The moment froze as her mind rushed into overdrive, calculating a pathway through space.

There it was.

A bubble of cyan magic enveloped them.

She heard Trixie exhale and smiled.

They dripped through space and appeared on a small hillock a few hundred yards due west. They landed on soft grass with a wet thud. Trixie coughed. Starlight gently put a hoof around her withers and pointed towards the dance hall.

Creatures of all kinds were exiting the building. Hasty but orderly, chatting and gesticulating vigorously. A few moments later, Starlight finally heard it.

The distant sound of their laughter.

“That was so irresponsible, Starlight,” Trixie hummed and nuzzled her. Starlight reached around her and smiled.

“It was,” she said. “But it made you smile.”

Trixie didn’t say anything else. She just smiled as she watched the creatures forming into groups outside with changelings darting between them confusedly. Their disjointed, joyful chatter carried all the way to the unicorns.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Starlight said finally.

“Yes…?”

Starlight swallowed. She thought it would be easy. But even with the whole evening behind her – twice – it wasn’t. Her chest tightened and the fire blazed once again in her heart, reminding her of the promise she gave herself.

Before the fire could consume her, she whispered:

“I love you, Trixie.”

A gust of wind blew past…

“And I love you too, Starlight.”

…but it didn’t tear their love apart after all.

Chapter 1, in which a strange custom leads to a surprising transformation.

Starlight still thought of her home as “Twilight’s Castle,” even after all these years.

It was silly, she knew. She was left in the tenancy of her mentor’s former home when the alicorn moved to Canterlot. Without the Princess of Friendship, however, the castle’s crystal halls seemed to chill Starlight with the echoes of her lonely hoofsteps.

Twilight’s friends still came by once in a while, of course. But those were just social calls when they were visiting Ponyville. Other than that? Starlight was still single. She tried dating for a while, but it just never ended up working out for some reason. No – the only pony who somewhat dispelled the gloom was Trixie. After all, the showpony positively lived here these days.

Back in the day, Starlight might have scolded her for this. But seeing as she herself had been crashing in her former mentor’s house for the past few years, she would have found it hypocritical.

And she did enjoy Trixie’s company.

She still missed Twilight. But the Princess of Friendship was only one of the two reasons Starlight was currently cantering down an echoey hallway towards the cyan bathroom.

The other, more pressing reason was inside.

Starlight gave the door a series of raps.

“Trixie!” she called out.

There was no response save for a low hiss of a hairdryer.

“Trixie!” Starlight repeated, trying to sound resolute instead of panicked. “You’ve been in there for hours! We’re going to be late!”

The sound of the hairdryer stopped and a muffled voice replied: “Trixie needs one more minute!”

Starlight grunted. That’s what she said half an hour ago!

“Trixie,” she demanded. “You have to come out now! The ball is about to start!”

A bustle of activity and the door swung open. Starlight took a surprised step back as Trixie stood on the threshold, striking a pose. She playfully bounced her silvery mane and gave Starlight a sidelong glance.

“Well?” she asked, wiggling an eyebrow. “How does Trixie look?”

Starlight blinked and looked her friend up and down. The magician was clad in a sleek purple dress adorned with illusory stars which slowly crawled across the fabric. The cloth fell around the unicorn’s withers and wrapped neatly around her chest, affixed by a bright, turquoise gem. The aft portion wrapped around the unicorn’s haunches –

“Hey!” Trixie snapped. “Eyes up here!”

Starlight chuckled to hide her embarrassment and looked up. For once, Trixie didn’t wear her usual pointy hat. Instead, she opted for a small pillbox. Sat a bit to the side, it showered Trixie’s face in a thin netted veil adorned with tiny sparkling diamonds.

“You – ” Starlight cleared her throat. “You look great!”

“Great…?” Trixie echoed with expectation. The corner of her mouth twitched.

“And Powerful,” Starlight added with a laugh.

“As Trixie should!” The show pony nodded before pausing. “Say…”

Her eyes traced down and up before she gave another, slow nod and hummed.

“You’re no slouch yourself, Starlight…”

“Oh, this?” Starlight gave a nervous giggle. “It’s just a little thing I picked up last month in Canterlot – ”

She froze. The memory of the capital city served as a sudden reminder of today.

“We’re still late!” she blurted out. “We have to go!”

Without another moment of hesitation, she reached around Trixie’s withers and pressed against her.

“Hey! Watch the mane!” the magician protested as Starlight concentrated.

Her mind expanded outwards, beyond the castle, Ponyville, and the basin. She felt it almost immediately – a flickering, fiery beacon of magic luring her in like a candle would a moth. The unicorn focused on it as her mind calculated the stream compression matrix and the entry, transfer, and exit vectors. Energy flowed around the two ponies, encompassing them in a luminescent ball of residual blue-green light as Starlight’s magic latched onto the beacon’s homing signal.

“Exhale and open your mouth!” Starlight commanded and followed her own example.

When her friend failed to react, she reached down and squeezed her into a sudden, very tight hug. Trixie coughed into her ear.

Before the magical tether could snap under the strain, Starlight triggered the spell. The bubble burst, leaving behind an empty hallway.

In Canterlot’s gardens, a pair of ponies appeared in a burst of cyan light.

Trixie panted, trying her best not to collapse. Starlight held her friend up for a few moments, taking several deep breaths to get used to the thinner air as she looked around.

They were standing in a small gazebo weaved from live tree branches. The floor around them was a uniform obsidian slab etched with a complex, silvery web of focus diagrams. Even looking straight at them made her eyes cross and tear up and her temples throb.

She blinked and looked up. A tall alicorn stood before her, silhouetted against the distant sunset. For a moment, the aura of her magic pressed against Starlight’s mind like a heavy wind.

“Starlight Glimmer,” Ce – no, Twilight said pleasantly. The wind calmed down into a slight breeze. “And Trixie Lulamoon! So good the two of you have made it.”

“Barely…” Trixie wheezed.

“Sorry, Princess,” Starlight replied. “Trixie was – ”

She felt magic building around her. With a gentle-but-firm pull, she ushered the still-coughing Trixie out of the summoning circle. As they passed Twilight, the alicorn smiled at her.

“You are not the last, it seems,” she noted softly. “But you’d better hurry. You are the guests of honor, after all.”

“And you, Princess?” Starlight asked. “Will you be joining us?”

“After I finish with the stragglers,” Twilight said and closed her eyes. Her horn flared up with golden magic and a second later, another pony materialized inside the diagrams.

“Rarity, it’s so great to see you again!” This time Twilight reached out and pulled her alabaster friend into an embrace. Starlight bit her lip and headed out.

The two unicorns exited the gazebo and walked down a tree-covered stone path.

“You could have warned Trixie,” the magician muttered as she fixed her hat.

“I told you to breathe out,” Starlight replied. “We talked about this.”

“We did?” Trixie asked in surprise.

“I told you how important the difference in elevation and air pressure is in long-distance teleportation,” Starlight said indignantly. “When I did it the first time, I ended up in a hospital!”

“Oh, Trixie remembers now!” the magician smiled. “She brought you roses. You couldn’t talk for a week.”

Her smile lingered for a few moments. Starlight swallowed a mean retort and instead pointed towards a white sign with an arrow saying “Reception.”

They reached a small crossroad and turned.

The tree cover formed an arch here. In front of them stood one of the few great dance halls of Canterlot. A magnificent building of steel and pristine glass radiated a golden light and a mix of distant music and chatter. Like its sisters, the building nested like a jewel in the already breathtaking hanging gardens of the capital city.

“Done gawking?” she heard. Trixie was standing further along, looking back.

“Y-yeah,” Starlight replied. “I just never saw it like this. In the evening, I mean.”

Trixie looked to the building as though she only noticed it now.

“It’s not bad,” she admitted. “Trixie performed here once, remember?”

When not in use by the royal family – that was, almost always – the dance hall was rented to local nobles. The ones who could afford it.

“Was that when I was in Saddle Arabia?” Starlight searched her memories. She shook her head and rejoined her friend. Together, they walked towards the building.

“Last year, yes,” Trixie confirmed as she gave her hat one final prod.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there,” Starlight apologized.

“Not to worry,” Trixie said nonchalantly. “You have seen my show plenty of times. In fact, Trixie is quite glad you missed it that time.”

They passed the first few guests – a griffon and a mare, drinks in claw and hoof, chatting. The pair paused and nodded towards them. Starlight nodded back – Trixie ignored the two.

“Glad?” Starlight asked. “Why are you glad I missed your show?”

Trixie pouted.

“Trixie enjoys,” she said finally, “more lively shows. Villages and small towns. The audience screaming with fright, delight, and adoration. That is when Trixie performs at her best.”

Another group of guests. Another series of unimpressed nods.

“Nobles, on the other hoof?” Trixie scoffed. “They just watch, like they’re in a zoo or a museum. Trixie is not an art piece – she is a performance artist!”

The last sentence was quite loud. Starlight grinned apologetically at no creature in particular.

“Why not both?” she chuckled uneasily.

The corner of Trixie’s mouth twitched.

“I hope it’s not going to be a problem tonight?” Starlight asked.

“Not at all,” Trixie replied. “Trixie has learned the way of the cold nobility. She will grant them the honor of her presence and will depart with head held high.”

A tall colt in gold-and-purple livery noticed them and headed out towards them.

“Okay, good,” Starlight said quickly, then smiled at the colt. The pair stopped just outside the door. Gentle classical music still leaked from within, alongside the golden radiance. From this close, Starlight could see a crowd moving behind the glass panels.

“Madames,” the colt said with a slight accent and bowed. “Zee other guests ‘ave been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

He pointed to the door.

“Thank you!” Starlight said. A moment later, she realized Trixie had already stepped forward, slow and dignified. She quickly matched her step and crossed the threshold by her side.

“Dearest guests,” the colt announced. “Please welcome our esteemed guests for ze evening. Professor Starlight Glimmer, Ph.D., and The Great and Powerful Trixie Lulamoon.”

On any other day, Starlight would be amazed he didn’t pause at the Great and Powerful part. Tonight, she stood petrified instead. The golden room’s lacquered dance floor was filled with creatures of all kinds, from Arabians to yaks, with an unsurprisingly high number of unmasked changelings zipping through the crowd.

She was used to audiences of course, but at her lectures, it was mostly students and other teachers. It has been quite a while since she attended a formal function where she was to be the center of attention.

The guests all looked at the two unicorns and gave a very polite, subdued clap, stomp, or whatever their equivalent gesture was.

“Starlight! Trixie!” she heard a high-pitched voice. Finding the owner wasn’t hard. A multicolored torso poked out of the crowd, with a head adorned with an equally bright pair of antlers and a face bearing a wide, friendly smile.

“Thorax!” Starlight exclaimed. She rushed towards the changeling leader and shook his hoof vigorously. Trixie joined her, giving the changeling a bow and polite “Hello Thorax.”

“I’m glad you two made it!” Thorax said. “I was worried for a bit…”

He smiled.

“...But Princess Twilight informed me of the pony custom of being ‘fashionably late.’”

Starlight laughed to hide her embarrassment.

“Yeaaah…” she dragged. “So… What is this about? You were very mysterious in the invitation!”

“It is about mystery!” Thorax said. “And about exchanging customs. But you will find out soon enough. It’s a shame Discord wouldn’t attend – I think he would enjoy it.”

A flicker of sadness crossed the changeling’s face before he shook his head.

“But seeing that you’re here,” he went back to his cheery self, “I can deliver my speech!”

“He has a speech?” Trixie muttered.

The changeling hovered up. The crowd watched him as he landed on a podium, right in front of the band. The music stopped as Thorax took up a glass and clinked it with a piece of cutlery. The crowd quietened down. Behind them, Starlight felt something powerful moving. She glanced and saw Twilight, smiling benevolently, entering alongside Rarity.

“Dear creatures of all walks of life!” Thorax exclaimed.

“I have invited you,” he continued, “to commemorate the tenth anniversary of Changeling independence from the cruel Queen Chrysalis.”

The crowd gave another lukewarm clap.

“In those ten years,” the changeling went on, “our society has learned much from yours.”

He smiled.

“Granted, we have blundered through many customs and celebrations foreign to us. But as you know, changelings are very good at mimicry…”

He paused. Nobody laughed. Starlight snickered.

“We have learned much,” Thorax went on. “And now we seek to share our own celebration!”

There was a sudden movement on the sides of the room. Through the crowd, Starlight glimpsed changelings in tasteful livery, bearing plates laden with tall glasses.

“The Masquerade Ball,” Thorax explained, “is an ancient changeling tradition. Every year, the Hive gathers in a large cavern. Each changeling shapeshifts into another of their choosing. We mingle and enjoy the evening while we attempt to discover the real identities of our fellows. While never letting our own slip, of course.”

He paused and licked his lip.

“During Queen Chrysalis’ rule,” he said darkly, “this served as both a training exercise and a selection procedure for infiltrators. The best detectives were promoted to guards; the best agents to spies.”

The room murmured.

“But thanks to my friends,” Thorax brightened up, “ – Starlight, Trixie, and Discord – ” He raised his glass and nodded to the two unicorns, “we have made it through these dark times. And after our reformation, we have found another side of the Masquerade Ball.”

He gestured across the crowd.

“By changing into another and acting as them,” he explained, “one gains a better understanding of them as an individual and friend. Conversely, seeing another transformed into yourself, you are able to glimpse how others perceive you – without letting them know you are there to witness it.”

He clapped his hooves excitedly.

“It is this mutual understanding which made us want to share the custom with you.”

A changeling offered Starlight and Trixie a glass each. Both held the same thin, green liquid. Trixie sniffed hers carefully before humming appreciatively. Starlight mimicked her.

“Pineapple…?” she muttered.

“Mine’s more like lime,” Trixie whispered.

“All of you now hold a glass of a very special potion,” Thorax announced. “It was created by two of the most skilled alchemists in Equestria.”

He nodded to someone Starlight could not see.

“The potion’s effect,” he continued, “is to channel and share our ability to transform into others. If you drink it, you will turn into someone else.”

The crowd began murmuring again.

“Somepony else?!” Trixie whined to Starlight. “But Trixie is already perfect!”

Starlight chuckled, but the little glass now filled her with curiosity.

“Namely,” Thorax explained, “you will be transformed into the pony you hold in your mind at the moment the potion takes effect – exactly as you envision them in that moment.”

Starlight’s mind was awash with possibilities. She could become Twilight when she was still just a unicorn! Or maybe Rainbow Dash before she got old! Or Ember! The rush of options made her miss most of what Thorax said next. She shook her head and focused on him again.

“—last dance, after which I will dispel the effects,” the changeling leader was saying. He paused and looked over the crowd.

“If you do not wish to participate,” he nodded, “that is your choice. And now!”

He raised his own glass.

“To you, my friends,” his eyes locked with Starlight’s, “to the greatest of illusions – and the greatest of revelations!”

They raised their glasses as well. Thorax drank ceremoniously, downing the whole glass in one go. The crowd followed his example.

As did Starlight.

The potion was fruity and went down like a dream. Despite this, it filled Starlight with a familiar warmth. The feeling spread through her, down to her hooves and up to her ear tips. It lingered. A moment later, she realized the warmth masked an intricate magical pattern. Her mind watched it sizzle and unfold within her, raising her hairs to attention.

She tried to focus on the pony she would turn to, but her mind ran wild with possibilities. Rarity? Maybe Celestia? Maybe not a pony at all! A male? Spike? Or maybe—

The magic seized her suddenly. For a split second, every cell of her body was on fire. She wanted to yell out in surprise, but her body would not respond. Green fire burst out of her and those around her.

Cold green flames consumed the crowd.

Starlight realized she was back in control of her body when she suddenly stumbled to the side. She bumped into another pony – a gray mare with purple eyes and jet black hair.

The mare scowled at her.

“Sorry!” she apologized. Only it wasn’t her voice that came out of her throat.

Despite this, she knew that voice all too well.

Starlight covered her mouth and looked down. Her hooves had lost their purple hue and were now bright blue. As she looked across the crowd, she saw many creatures with the same shocked expression she no doubt wore.

Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention – she turned to look at it, but it moved faster than her. She stumbled again, brushing against someone else. Only then she realized the thing was a strand of silver-and-blue hair hanging over her left eye.

“Oh sweet Celestia,” she breathed in the voice of The Great and Powerful Trixie.